


Fluorescent Adolescent

by Zeebruh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Derekstiles, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Male Homosexuality, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeebruh/pseuds/Zeebruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has to get rid of the Jeep, and Derek helps him cope with all the new changes that he's going through just a few weeks before he starts college -- one that's not in Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluorescent Adolescent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoleo/gifts).



> So, this is a fic that my beloved theoleo requested me to write. Based off of an incredible piece of fan art that showed Derek and Stiles having hot sex in the Jeep (which I don't have the link to right now), and it started out as pure fluff but then took a turn into something with a little more depth. So yeah. Lots of Sterek feels. Title is taken from the Arctic Monkeys song of the same name.

“It’s just a car, Stiles.”

Stiles turns to face Derek, abhorred.

“ _Just_ a _car?_ Oh my god, are you even right now -- do you know how many times this thing’s saved my ass? I mean sure, it’s a piece of crap and I’ve had to get it fixed like, I don’t know, a million times –- and yeah, okay, a guy died under it once but I’m willing to forget that and – just. We’ve shared a lot together, y’know, and I’m allowed to be sentimental about it. You just don’t get it.” 

Derek’s still staring straight ahead at the busted Jeep with a blank expression on his face and hands pushed into his pockets. Stiles can hear the sound of his leather jacket when he shrugs. 

“I guess I don’t,” and looks wearily at Stiles when he says it. Hazel green eyes glowing even at eleven PM, when only source of light is the dim moon and ghostly streetlamps. “Do you know what you’re getting to replace it with?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “No. My dad’s gonna pick it out from the used car place tomorrow,” and he sounds hollow. He doesn’t like the fact that another car is going to take this one’s place. And he doesn’t like that he’s feeling so overwhelmed about a car, not when Derek’s standing next to him, trying to be the good non-judging boyfriend but Stiles can feel how much that’s failing.

“Can we,” Stiles starts after a minute, “can we maybe just sit inside it for a bit?”

There’s another instant of silence, after which Derek puts a hand to his shoulder and squeezes gently. “Sure.”

He opens the driver’s side door for him. Stiles slips in and reflexively puts his hands to the wheel. Slides his fingers along the weathering material that coats it, and when he hears Derek slam the door on the passenger side, gets knocked back into his senses.

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “It’s just bittersweet I guess.” And maybe he’s not just talking about the car. 

He’s not really ready for all this change; a new car to take him to a new college, away from Beacon Hills and his best friend and his dad and -- Derek. He decides to lighten the mood by adding, “I mean we had some good times in here...like, remember when you bashed my skull into the steering wheel? Good, good times. Even though I totally didn’t deserve that.”

Derek chuckles, a flash of teeth. “Of course you deserved it,” and looks genuinely amused by it, until Stiles falls silent and grim again. For a few minutes only the faded sound of suburban crickets fill the air, and then Stiles hears a shuffle next to him.

“Okay, enough of this,” Derek declares. Before Stiles can slip out a word, a warm hand reaches to the back of his neck and drags him forward from his seat. They’re an inch apart when Stiles makes a small noise, which he can’t help when Derek’s unabashedly staring at his lips. Derek claims them a moment later, instantly licking his way into Stiles’ mouth. He’s greeted with a gasp from Stiles, who wraps an arm around the older boy’s neck. “No more pouting,” the alpha tells him with swift kisses to his neck, which Stiles grants him easier access to by tilting his head back. Derek’s tongue strokes at his pulse and Stiles nods and breathes out, “Yeah, no, no more pouting, I promise, just keep, _yeah_ keep doing that—”

Derek shuts him up in the most effective way possible, with an open mouth and sharp nibbles, something he’s learned to do ever since realizing that empty threats don’t work on the kid.

They kiss until everything is wet and hot and slippery, and when Derek’s canines hitch onto Stiles’ lip he drags away when he almost draws blood. Stiles just brings him back with a forceful pull.

The angle is awkward so he doesn’t object when the alpha slips a hand under Stiles’ shirt with the intention of moving him. Scraping skin as he lifts him from the driver’s seat with ease and all but shoves him into the back. Stiles hits the seat with hard impact and Derek hovers, straddling the lanky body beneath him and pressing open kisses to his jaw.

Stiles is quick to remove Derek’s shirt, immediately running his fingers up the ripple of muscles. God, he loves those muscles. He dives in to take a perky nipple in his mouth – because Derek loves when he does that, Stiles even has the direct quote to back it up stored in his memory — rolling it in his tongue and between teeth until Derek’s brazen moans fill the vehicle, and Stiles can feel the tip of his claws fighting to come out against his scalp.

He uses them instead to dig into Stiles’ wrists when he pins his hands up. Derek rolls his hips once into Stiles, who lets out a strangled gasp to let him know he wants more of that. He doesn’t try to fight Derek’s grip, instead writhes out of his shoulders in search of a kiss that Derek grants firmly. They breathe sharply through their noses and Derek releases him to run his hands up Stiles' stomach beneath his shirt, thumbing the thin trail of hair beneath his navel. The younger boy fumbles to find a place to put his hands -- Derek’s muscled shoulders, his chiseled arms, his slim waist, all parts of Derek that Stiles loves. He finally settles for his ass, because really it’s his _ass,_ and tugs at the belt loops of his jeans in attempt to take them off.

“Ah-ah,” Derek teases, swatting his arms away. Stiles freezes and stares at Derek, mouth agape and completely raw. “You’re the one mourning here, not me. My rules,” and bares his teeth in a smile.

“Oh my god,” Stiles rolls his eyes, pressing his tongue to his own teeth. “Asshole,” he mutters along with something along the lines of _when are you gonna get over the fact that you're an alpha_ , but nevertheless grins into Derek’s burning neck. Is ever vocal when those strong fingers scrape their way up onto the flesh of his stomach once more. When they pinch one of Stiles’ sensitive nipples, he squeaks and pulls Derek closer to him. 

“Please,” Stiles begs, bucking up in sporadic rhythm, “Derek, c’mon.”

“Please what?” Derek rasps, breath hot in Stiles’ ear.

“Get in me,” and now it’s not a plea, it’s an order. Derek can tell by the way that Stiles’ voice drops an octave when he says it.

“Fuckin teenagers,” Derek chuckles, “you get hard so fast.”

Stiles shoots him a glaring look, even though it’s clouded by lust, and presses a firm palm onto the bulge in Derek’s jeans.

Derek makes a sound at that, “ _Touche,”_ he grants, and continues to shower Stiles with sharp kisses. 

In a few minutes, they’re fucking despite the tight space. Stiles with half his clothes still on, sweat clinging to his t-shirt and his red sweater pooling at his wrists -- Derek with his pants undone, slipping off his ass gracelessly as he slams into Stiles. The alpha dips his head into the younger boy’s chest, furrowing his eyebrows and biting into the bit of exposed collarbone. Stiles pants and gasps like he’s fighting to find air, clamps a hand to his tightly squeezed eyes and alternates between that and wrapping it around the back of Derek’s thigh, urging him to go _deeper, faster, oh my god Derek please._ His knees are bent and pushed back to his own shoulders, and even though the muscles in his legs ache and can’t bear to go any further, he still tries. Still spreads himself wider and wider. Because it never feels like he has enough of Derek, not even when he’s deep inside of Stiles and every inch of them is plastered against each other.

When they come, it’s almost unexpected. Stiles shoots first, as usual – but Derek is always quick to follow. They can hardly feel the stickiness of it, because the temperature in the car had rapidly risen and has caused the windows to fog up, so they both have beads of sweat threatening to drip down their chins and don’t feel the come until they’re cooling down. Derek’s head has dropped onto Stiles’ shoulder, and there’s a comfortable silence as the two take a few minutes to regain their oxygen.

“If I wasn’t getting rid of my baby tomorrow, I don’t know if I’d be happy about this,” Stiles says when his heart rate is almost back to normal, eyeing the mess. He nuzzles against Derek’s arm contentedly.

Derek looks at him, unconvinced by that statement, because to be honest, Stiles probably wouldn’t even properly notice it until the next day. Even then, he’d probably just throw a mini blanket over the seats to cover it up and smile every time he looked back at it. 

-

Another half hour passes, and they spend that time just talking, half-sitting and half-spread across the back seats comfortably. It's the normal random stuff that they talk about when they're not having sex – Stiles’ WoW breakthroughs (which Derek mindfully nods along to even though he doesn't understand at least half of the terminology), Scott stuff, how Derek needs to update his driver’s license, pack drama, the fact that Lydia and Jackson have gotten back together for the millionth time and are breaking up again because they’re going to different colleges, and then. And then Stiles falls silent, and Derek knows why. But he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to bring it up if Stiles doesn’t want to. When he crawls up right next to Derek, however, the impending discussion is literally hanging by a single thread.

“I don’t wanna go,” Stiles murmurs into Derek’s face, arms wrapped steadily around his neck. “Don’t make me go.”

Derek smiles in spite of himself. He smiles even though he can’t bear to think that in just a week, the boy next to him will be in a town that isn’t Beacon Hills. 

He runs his thumb over the small of Stiles’ back, still covered by his t-shirt. “Don’t say that,” Derek soothes, “you’ll have a great time.”

Stiles shakes his head, keeping it buried at the alpha’s neck, no doubt to hide the wetness in his eyes that Derek can feel against his own warm skin. He strokes Stiles’ short hair, the little tufts that have been growing out ever since Derek admitted that he liked to have a bit of hair to hold onto. 

“Why’d I choose a place so far away?” he complains, muffled, breathing in Derek’s scent as if it’s the last time he’ll get to do that. Derek tries to ignore that thought. “I mean, who’s gonna look after my dad? And Scott? You know he can’t make a decision of any remote intelligence without me. Ugh. You could’ve stopped me, you know. Actually you _should’ve_ stopped me. So yeah, technically this is your fault.”

This time, Derek genuinely chuckles, “You chose it because it’s a good school,” he reassures him, “and it’s only an hour away.” He’s silent for a minute, and then, “Anyway, once you get there you probably won’t want anything to do with Beacon Hills.”

Stiles draws back immediately, his gaze strong as he looks into Derek’s eyes.

“What?” he asks heatedly, “What do you mean?”

Derek only shrugs and says, “You’re going to meet a lot of new people, Stiles. Find a new life, new interests. New relationships,” he adds that last bit with hesitation, but says it with enough conviction anyway.

“Okay aside from the fact that you said the word ‘new’ like, five times—” he starts, “Derek, really? New relationships? You think I’m leaving Beacon Hills to find a new _lover?”_

Derek wants to scoff at the word ‘lover’, but he doesn't, because instead it hits something deep inside him. Something that makes his stomach flip and pulse quicken.

“Maybe,” he replies simply, staring at Stiles vacantly. “And I’m not mad about it, Stiles. That’s what college is for.”

“What – you –” Stiles flails out of his grip, “you are really, something else Derek – are you – _seriously?_ You’re one of the only reasons I _want_ to stay! Fuck, I’ve considered declining my acceptance like a billion times because of you –”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t!” Derek’s voice is suddenly rising. He backs away from the younger boy and the space between them is suddenly huge. “Stiles, you’re young. I wouldn’t expect you stay here just because of me. In fact, I wouldn’t want you to,” and perhaps that’s one of the biggest lies Derek’s ever told, but he doesn’t need Stiles to know that. Stiles looks horrified, however, so his face softens and his chest falls into a sigh. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.” His eyes drop and his mouth downturns. 

“Derek,” Stiles almost sounds choked, and he grips the older boy’s forearms, “can you look at me for a sec? Drop the protective, always-does-what’s-best act for a minute? Please?”

It takes Stiles to physically lift Derek’s head, one hand slipped into his hair.

“Sour wolf,” the younger boy remarks endearingly, smiling crookedly, “Just, hear me out okay. No interruptions. Okay?” Derek nods silently. “Good. So, my life up until sophomore year was pretty shit, you already know that, and then Scott turned into a werewolf and yada yada, that was cool and then life got more interesting and dangerous and all that. But the fact is I was _lonely_ , and then you were there and you – just _ruined_ me, Derek, god I was so into you but by then I was used to one-sided relationships, but then that summer you said you _wanted_ _me_ – do you even understand how happy that made me? I’ve told you all of this a million times, you’d think it’d register through to your head at some point – you just, you understand me in ways that no one, not Scott or my dad or anyone can. So basically my point is that I kind of love you and I’m not leaving to _break up_ with you, because that would just, it would kill me, okay? I don’t care if you don’t want me anymore because you think it’s the right thing to do, I’m not about to let you go that easy. We can make this work,” and he stumbles over his last words, more of a wish than a statement, “we, we have to make this work.” 

Derek is still silent, even when Stiles anxiously says, “I’m done, you can talk now.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, instead leans forward tentatively, making sure Stiles is comfortable with it. Derek takes his face into both hands and breathes a kiss into Stiles’ mouth.

“We will,” he tells him, stroking Stiles’ face as he claims his lips over and over again. Stiles has his eyes screwed tight and eyebrows scrunched at the centre when he kisses back. 

“And what if _you_ find someone else?”

Derek scoffs, “In Beacon Hills?” and when Stiles tenses, he hastily adds, “You know I’ll never replace you. I’ll always be here.” It’s a promise, and he feels the teenager exhale with relief.

“I love you, Derek Hale,” Stiles repeats, nerves racking his voice, but still firm when he says it. It’s not as if they haven’t said it to each other before, but right now it feels like they’re saying it for the first time all over again.

“I love you too,” Derek whispers, breath hitching around the words, and then smiling, “Genim Stilinski.”

“Aw,” Stiles groans dramatically, “why’d you have to go and ruin it,” before a ripple of laughter bursts through Derek.  And Stiles can’t help but join in on it. “You know,” he adds after a while, “this whole thing” he gestures between the two of them and the car, “is only gonna make it harder for me to let go of my baby.”

Derek smiles, shaking his head. “You’ll get over it,” and leans in for the umpteenth time to press a small kiss to Stiles’ bruised lips.

Stiles frowns. “I don’t know if I will, I mean, that was pretty fantastic.”

“Well,” says Derek, nosing along his cheek, sending a warm shiver go down Stiles’ spine, “what if I guarantee that you’ll really, _really_ like your new car after tomorrow?”

He can see the blush from the younger boy’s neck spread to his cheeks like wildfire. His brown eyes sparkle and his mouth slightly agape, that tongue peeking out.

“I can, I can deal with that, yeah,” Stiles replies, and can only smile up at the wide eyes staring down at him. He never knows what to do when Derek looks at him like that.

All he knows is that it's enough to keep him confident that yeah, maybe things really will be alright. 


End file.
